The breath of Adam burrows abreast
a fertile crest, to breach a barren furrow,
to bare deep to stem the caryopsis husk
and the root of the vine -
Raise then the ascendent spirt within a
leavened prost to be devined by communion
with an ancient Host -
Or, does the flame from the oven’s hearth
cast the Ghost in flight, say the flicker
reprieve?
Do we press from any vintage trust in
“The ear alone to be most safely believed”?
Do Saturn’s rings among all things
still belong to the beginning?
Do “Sights, touch and taste in thee each
deceive from the truth’s own
Word ?"
Does all truth matter?
Does all matter for all time?
Châz
